


Loveseat

by IncurablePeppermint



Category: Stardew Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Bad Weather, Easy Reader Insert, Loss of Virginity, NB Farmer, Other, Plus sized farmer, Porn with Feelings, Rained in, Unnamed Farmer, Unnamed Player Character - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-15
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-12-16 13:04:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21036695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IncurablePeppermint/pseuds/IncurablePeppermint
Summary: Shane (working as a farmhand) and the farmer get rained in together when a sudden downpour comes to Stardew Valley. Shane doesn't think this is the ideal situation, not least of all because he's been nursing a crush on his boss.





	Loveseat

This is all because JojoMart closed, Shane thinks to himself as he sits on the farmer’s plush loveseat and watches them out of the corners of his eyes. The farmer is freshly showered and working up something for the two of them to have for dinner. He should be at home microwaving instant macaroni. He shouldn’t be here. He doesn’t know if he can handle it.

It’s not that he doesn’t  _ want _ to be here. He wants to be here. He  _ really  _ wants to be here. Though if he had the choice he’d definitely be just a little to the side. Over in the kitchen. Pressed up behind the farmer, arms around their waist, lips pressed against their neck. He bites his lip. 

What he doesn’t want is to be stranded here, an unwanted guest. He doesn’t want to be in his underwear and t-shirt (lap covered with a spare blanket for modesty) because everything else got soaked in the sudden downpour. He doesn’t want to keep playing back his phone call to Aunt Marnie in his head. Where she chides him for not coming home earlier. Where she makes him promise not to drink while he’s a guest (he hasn’t been drinking anyway). Where she says not to be a bother.

He doesn’t want to  _ bother _ the farmer. His current employer. When JojoMart closed he was fine taking a little time off. Then Doc Harvey wanted him to go to therapy and... That adds up. If he hadn’t been a fuck up burn out for years he would’ve had the cash set aside. Or better yet, he wouldn’t have been told to go to therapy in the first place. 

But the farmer hired him and fixed that problem. He isn’t sure if Marnie blabbed about his employment issues or not. The farmer came up to him one day and asked if he was as good with chickens as Marnie says he is. He ended up hired on as a farmhand. He doesn’t know how good he is at it. He likes spending the extra time with them.

They walk over and hand him a (home made) personal pizza and a can of sparkling water. They started keeping it around for him, specifically. He doesn't know what to think about that. “Do you want a fork or anything,” they ask. He shakes his head. “Are you sure, I can get it for you. I don’t mind at all.” He shakes his head again. Always so polite, so accommodating. They give up on fetching him something and just grab their own plate and sit down next to him on the love-seat.

By merit of the farmer’s wide hips the two of them are squished together a bit. Their sides and thighs touch. Shane digs into his food, trying to distract himself. It’s delicious, because of course it is. Just about everything this farmer does is successful. Or at least endearing. Or maybe he just idealizes them so much he can't think of any time they've fucked up. “I’ll leave once the rain lightens up,” he tells them.

“Are you sure you want to do that so late? I can get you some blankets and pillows for the couch. Or I could take the couch if you need a bed.” Their tone is genuine, their expression is worried. There's pizza sauce on their left cheek.

“I’m definitely not taking your bed.”

“The couch then. It’s dark and it’s rained enough that there’s standing water. You don’t need to walk home in that.”

He shrugs, but he doesn’t argue. It’s useless to argue with them over something like this. And they’re right anyway. He just doesn’t know if he can handle sleeping over. The idea of it is making his head hurt. What if they wake up earlier than him and he's spread out on the couch, balls hanging out of his boxers? They've already seen him in a lot of gross, unflattering positions (mostly shitfaced) and he doesn't want anymore added to the list.

“Alright, fine. The couch.” He shifts a little so they aren’t pressed together  _ quite _ so much. He doesn't mention that the 'couch' is actually a loveseat. He doesn't know if they don't know the difference or if they got scammed at a furniture store in the big city.

“Thank you, Shane. I would be worried if you tried to run off.”

He grunts. He tries not to look down at their chest. They pretty obviously elected not to wear a bra post-shower. They probably just didn’t think about it. Or they don’t think of him in a way that would make them care about modesty. He bites his tongue while he chews. 

“I feel like I’ve seen this commercial a thousand times now.”

“Then stop watching the same channel every night.”

“Tell them to show what I’m watching on more than one channel, then.”

When they’ve both finished their food the farmer leans over gently onto Shane’s shoulder. He’s used to them doing stuff like this to him. Just not in their house, on their couch (loveseat), while he’s half-naked. They’re pretty physically affectionate. They put their hand on top of Marnie’s when they buy hay. He’s seen them lean over the bar to give Gus a hug. The first time he noticed them it was because they'd agreed to give Jas a ride to the library piggy-back.

They suddenly lift up off of him.. “Sorry, forgot to ask. I promise I’ve been better about that.” They’re a _ little _ too affectionate for some people, unfortunately. He’s pretty sure it was Sebastion that told them not to just assume it’s okay. Which, yeah. Fair. But it sucks for Shane, because now he has to admit that he wants that affection. “Is it okay if I-”

“It’s fine." He doesn't mean to sound so short with them.

“You’re sure? I don’t want you to think you have to-”

“You know as well as I do that if I had a problem with it I’d tell you to fuck off.”

“You don’t mince words.”

They lean back over onto him. He, very cautiously, cups his hand over their far shoulder. He doesn’t want to seem  _ too _ into it. He doesn’t want it to be obvious. He doesn't want to have to keep telling them it's fine to go in for a hug. “Look. Just assume you can do whatever you want unless I say otherwise. Asking me all the time makes it weird.” They tilt their head to look up at his face. He stiffens. He feels like he said something wrong.

“Whatever I want?”

What is that supposed to mean? He doesn’t let himself think about it. “Yeah. I don’t care.” They snuggle into his side, resting a hand on his chest. He swallows hard. Just more of their touchy nonsense. He doesn’t know how they can be so comfortable with people. He wonders if they come from one of those families that kiss on the lips.

“I can move back.”

“I already said I’d tell you if I gave a shit.”

“If you’re sure.”

They clamber onto him a little bit at a time. He's reminded of a big dog that still thinks of itself as a puppy. When they finally settle in they’re sitting in his lap, head on his shoulder, arms around him. They’re soft against his chest and heavy on his legs. He stares forward, not sure what to do with himself. Outside of fighting very hard to keep his dick flaccid, of course. Slowly, he puts arms around them, if for no other reason than to keep them from falling off his lap into the floor.

“And this is okay too?”

He tries to work up a snarky response. He can’t. He says, “Yeah,” and his voice cracks. This is, surely, just the farmer being touchy. This absolutely cannot be them making a move. Not on  _ him _ . They press a kiss to his neck. He sucks his breath in through his teeth. Alright, maybe they are making a move, but he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. He can already hear his therapist droning on to him about how he doesn’t have to earn care.

“You mean it?”

“Yeah. Knock yourself out.”

He catches them grinning even though they won’t look up at him. Maybe they’re imagining someone else, but can only get at him. There’s no way they’re nervous or embarrassed about this. Not when it’s with him. He hasn’t fucked since right after high school. He can’t even remember who he last did it with. He loses his fight with his cock and feels it prod into the welcoming meat of the farmer’s thigh. They stand up. They get on their knees in front of him.

He absolutely can’t stand it. He’s gross. He knows that he’s gross. Not in a never showers sort of way but in an over-arching, long lasting way. They shouldn’t put their mouth on him. They especially shouldn’t just decide that they  _ want _ to without anyone asking. They pull down his underwear and modesty blanket. They avoid both eye-contact and looking at his cock, which by now is sporting quite the chubby. He digs his fingers into the couch to avoid digging them into his own thighs.

“I, uh... I’ve been interested for awhile,” they admit. He doesn’t say anything. He knows the words would just come out stupid or mean. Probably both. They lean in and kiss along his left thigh. “I didn’t mean to... To trap you like this. To do this while you’re stuck here.” He stares down at them, dumbfounded. They don’t need to  _ apologize _ while going in for a blowjob. “You can still tell me to stop.”

“I’m not going to.”

“I mean, if you decide...”

“I’m telling you that I won’t.” They finally risk looking up at him. They lock eyes with him. He feels weak. He forces himself to keep talking. “You can do whatever you want. I’m not stopping you. You could deck me and I’d be fine with it.” He cringes inside as he hears himself talk. It's sappy and desperate but his tone still comes out mean. They nod and then go back to kissing at his thigh. He breathes out slowly. His chest feels heavy. 

They move in and give him a firm lick just at the bottom of the shaft. He opens his thighs more, even though they’re already spread out. He feels them take a deep breath in, pressed against his balls. He furrows his brow, but doesn’t say anything. They rub their cheek up along his cock until their mouth reaches the tip, then they take just that into their mouth.

He reaches down and strokes their pixie-short hair. They aren’t really... Good at it. It feels good, obviously. He won’t complain. But he’s received skilled blowjobs (a decade ago) and this just isn’t one of them. They clumsily scrape their teeth against his cock while running their tongue around the head. He almost wants to laugh, but he’s pretty sure if he moves unexpectedly they’ll accidentally bite him.

And on top of their apparent lack of skill, it just doesn’t feel  _ right _ . He doesn’t want this to just be some sloppy blowjob while a gameshow plays in the background. If he’s getting a chance to fuck the farmer he wants to  _ fuck _ them. He wants to give it his all. "Wait," he asks. They back up and stare down at the floor, obviously embarrassed. He quickly adds, "Could we finish this in bed?" They seem relieved.

"Yeah, of course! Sorry."

"You don't need to apologize."

"Sorry."

He sighs. He doesn't know why they're so worried about this. What? Is  _ he _ going to turn  _ them _ down? He's just the local fuck-up. He helps them up from the floor and tries not to think about how stupid he must look walking through the house with his stiffy wobbling in front of him. So much for that last shred of dignity he was trying to hold onto.

The farmer goes ahead of him and quickly stuffs something into their bedside drawer. They don't have to hide shit from him. He couldn't care less. He strips off his shirt and comes up behind them before they can climb up onto the bed. He puts his arms around their waist. Kisses their neck.

They let out what might be the cutest noise he's ever heard. He'll admit bias, though. It's a tiny, high-pitched moan. It borders right on the edge of a squeak. He chuckles, just a little. "You didn't hire me just to get in my pants, right," he asks, jokingly. 

"Well... I mean... You're not mad, right?"

He freezes, face still stuffed into their neck. That was  _ months _ ago. "You did," he asks, and this time it's a real question. They don't respond for a long three seconds, then they nod. "There are easier ways to get some bad dick." 

"Don't say that."

"What? There are."

"No, I mean... I want to get with you. Not to just-"

"You don't."

They squirm in his grasp just enough to turn around and face him. His cock presses into their stomach enough that he's certain it's uncomfortable for them. They reach up and cup his cheeks. He doesn't like the pitiful look they give him. He wants them to just keep moaning. He wishes he knew how to keep his fucking mouth shut.

"I do, shut up."

"You don't, make me."

They look at him for a moment, then lean up the paltry few inches it takes to shove their lips together. He closes his eyes and gets into it, instantly. His gut fear is that this will be his only chance. They'll kiss him once, realize their mistake, and tell him to hit the road. He leads them back until he can help them get up on the bed, backwards. He puts one hand under their top to squeeze at their side. He wishes he wasn't so rusty. Then maybe, at the very least, they’d come back to him for a quickie.

When he finally, reluctantly, pulls out of the kiss they stare at him red faced and dazed. They smile one of those stupid, drunk smiles. They have not been drinking, they never do when he’s around. It feels unreal. He wonders if maybe they just haven't gotten any in awhile. In so long that they're bottom of the barrel desperate.

"Maybe you do..." he says, half to himself. They seem satisfied with that. He lets his hands explore the sides of their body. Hips, thighs, waist. He doesn't move his hands further in. He savors it. They rub their thighs together, obviously anxious to continue. 

He knows he doesn't look as happy as he is. Partially because he's so shocked, mostly because he just doesn't have it in him. He smiles in the mirror sometimes, to see what it looks like, and his face hurts. He doesn't use those muscles. He might've forgotten how to be sincere.

They take his hands and move them down to grasp the bottom of their top. He manages a smirk. "Don't rush me," he says. He strips it off of them anyway. They won't look up at him. "What, you're  _ shy _ now? You seemed pretty confident when you were sucking my cock." He feels like he shoved his foot in his mouth. He doesn't know why he talks like that.

They bite their lip. Squirm. "Do you want me to look at you?" There's a whine to their voice, a desperation. 

He waits for just a moment. Let's the gears turn a bit. "Yeah. Look at me," he finally says. They turn their chin up to have him. "What, you like that," he asks, working hard to make sure it doesn't sound like he's just taunting them. They don't answer. He re-words it, "Tell me what you like."

"I... Like it when you tease me," they admit. He scoffs. They just want to fuck him because they're a degenerate? He'll take it. They can't find it in themselves to keep looking him in the eye and they bury their face in his chest. 

He gives them a few gentle pats on the back. "I can manage that, don't give yourself a stroke." They nod, still hiding in his chest. He sighs, knowing he needs to ask but not wanting to risk losing his chance. "You sure you wanna do this? You seem too nervous."

"I haven't done it before." He stares down at the top of their head.  _ Really _ ? They had to give him  _ more _ shit to think about? "I really want it. I'll try to calm down." They breathe in, deep and slow. He thinks it’s a waste for anyone to have their first fuck with him.

He takes their cheek in his hand and leads their face up. Makes them look at him. "You're a mess." He runs his thumb across their cheek. "I'll take care of you, though." He leans down closer to them and steals a kiss, amazed that he can get away with it.

"Please."

He tries hard to grin. He's certain it doesn't look right. They light up with a real, decent smile in response. It crooks just a little to one side. He'd call it handsome. 

"You don't have to  _ beg _ ." He leans in further still and takes one nipple into his mouth. Runs his tongue in circles around it. They squeak in response. "I won't stop you, if you want to, though." They put their hands on their cheeks, looking unsure of what to do with themselves. 

"Don't stop..."

"What's that?"

"Please, don't stop. Keep going. Please, Shane." He wants his name on their lips like that forever. Desperate, pleading. Wanting  _ him _ . They want him. They meant it. He redoubles his efforts, desperate to please. Tauntingly slowly, he runs his tongue in an up and down motion over their nipple. He moves a hand up to start massaging at their other breast, lightly pinching that nipple between two fingers as he goes. "Please fuck me." He doesn't understand it. Why they're so desperate for him.

"Beg for it."

He pulls away from them and slides his hands into the sides of their pajama pants. " _ Fuck me _ . I want it bad. I can't stand it." He doesn't make a move. "Shane, please." There it is. He strips them the rest of the way down, which is a bit awkward with them sitting on the bed. He doesn't care.

He opens up their legs then starts to kneel down in front of them. They stiffen. "What is it," he asks. He knows he sounds testy. They move up into a slightly better position, right at the edge of the bed.

"Just... Nervous."

"I'll take care of you. I told you already."

"I know."

"You trust me?"

He looks up at them once he gets to his knees. They stares down at him for a moment, looking surprised. He doesn't know why. "I do." He rests his head on one of their thighs.

"Then tell me you want this."

"I want it."

He scoffs, "No, no. You know what I mean. Tell me or I won't do it." They cover their face with their hands again. "And let me see you say it." He doesn't know if he's taking this too far. Or doing it wrong. He hopes they'd tell him if he was. He hopes he’s doing it _ really _ well and they’ll want a second round another day. They uncover their face and look at him, their hands tremble softly. 

"I want you to eat me out," they just barely manage. He turns his head and gently nibbles at their thigh, satisfied. The reach down and twine their fingers into his hair. It's a bit rough for his liking, but he'll deal with that if he gets another chance at fucking them. He doesn’t have it in him to complain about it right now.

"There we go, was that so hard?" He chuckles when they respond with just a tiny, restrained squeal. He uses both hands to spread open their labia and find it absolutely soaking. There's a wet spot on the bed from it, now that he's actually looking. 

He moves in, excited. He's pretty sure he remembers how to do this part. Or at least he remembers well enough to please a first-timer. First, he just pushes his face in and plants a kiss right under their clit. Then he actually gets started, slowly lapping at their inner labia, tongue pressed flat. 

"Shane..." Their voice is a whimper. He carefully maneuvers his hand up to slip the tip of his finger inside them without getting in his own way. He wants to be as gentle as possible. He slowly pushes his finger further in and rubs at their inner walls. He makes sure not to focus too much on their clit, he knows they could get overstimulated. 

Then they tighten up around his finger and grind their hips into him involuntarily. They squeal and moan and it's all a high-pitched mess. He wishes they would say his name right now, while they're finishing. He wishes they hadn't finished so fast, he feels like he's being shooed away from the dinner table. 

But he lets them ride it out and then gently, slowly pulls himself away. "That good," he asks as he grabs his shirt from the floor to wipe his face with. They nod. He laughs. "Guess I'm not as rusty as I thought."

"Fuck me."

"Now? You just came."

" _ Fuck  _ me, please. I still want it."

He shakes his head in disbelief, but still climbs up on the bed and over to them. "Don't blame me when your pussy's sore after," he says, more bluntly than he intends. He leans in to kiss their neck. They turn and catch him before he can. They kiss him on the lips.

He has to use his arms to hold himself up while they do their very best to wrap themselves around his head. To hold him in place for a better, longer kiss. He feels their tongue poke in and reciprocates, wondering if they  _ want _ their own lubrication in their mouth or if they just don't give a shit. If they actually want to kiss him that badly. His cock twitches. 

They pull out of the kiss after what both feels like forever and no time at all. Their breath is heavy. There’s drool on one side of their lip. He wants to fuck their brains out. He feels pretty gross thinking that, but the want is there anyway. He’ll deal with how gross, unworthy, or unsure he feels when he next catches the bus to Zuzu city for therapy. Right now? He wants to throw his back out.

The farmer shifts just a little so that they’re laying on their back under him. He hesitates. They reach up and pet at his hair and face. “Do I have to keep begging,” they ask. He leans into the hand on his face. Closes his eyes. 

“Nah, you don’t gotta do that.” He slowly opens his eyes to gaze down at them. They smile up at him. Warm, loving.  _ Loving?  _ He leans down and presses a few soft kisses to their collar, shoulder, and neck. 

They squirm. “Ah-Wait! Don’t keep teasing me.” He chuckles into their throat, making sure they feel the vibrations of it. They let out a giggling squeal. “Shane!” They move their hands to dig their fingers into his shoulders. “I mean it! Come on!”

“Alright, alright.” He moves back so that he’s kneeling between their legs. He gives his cock a few strokes to make sure he’s good and ready. And- Right. “Do you have-” before he can finish the question, they point over to the bedside table. “Alright, give me a second.” He opens it up and blindly grabs a box out of there, tossing it over onto the bed once he has what he needs out of it.

He slowly stuffs his dick into the condom. Half to keep teasing the farmer, half to make sure it’s on right. They let out a whine. He leans down, holding himself up with one hand. He uses the other hand to make sure he’s aimed right. Then he very slowly pushes himself in. He doesn’t want to do something to accidentally hurt them. Even though he really, really wants to go at them hard.

“How do you feel?”

“Full.”

“Looking for a little more detail than that.”

“Like you’re in my stomach.”

“Flattering, but you’d be dead.”

“ _ You _ asked how it feels.”

He snorts before leaning down and pressing a kiss to their cheek. “Okay. Do you feel like you could handle it if we keep going?” They nod. He gives them the slowest, least powerful little thrust he can manage. They whine. 

“Stop teasing me.  _ Fuck me _ .”

“Excuse me for trying to be gentle with you.”

He starts to gently rock against them, just barely fast enough that his breathing goes uneven. Or maybe it’s not even that fast and he’s just a bit out of shape. They put one hand over their mouth use the other to grip their bedspread. “Harder. Fuck me.” He picks up the pace. Bites down on his lip. Relaxes a little, pretty thoroughly convinced that he isn’t going to hurt them at this point. 

He focuses on what he’s getting out of it, finally. The warmth inside them. The soft squish when he thrusts in and incidentally rams his stomach into theirs. The sweet sound of their desperate little mewls and squeaks, even though all of those noises are unfortunately muffled. “Take your hand off your mouth,” he says more than asks. They do it. They let their fingers linger on the edge of their lip for a moment before using that hand to grip their own hair. 

“Shane...”

He pushes himself deep inside of them and groans. He knows he doesn’t sound cute or sexy. He finishes. And maybe it’s because he’s a little pent up, but he  _ really _ feels it. A shiver runs from his shoulders down through his spine. His hips give a little twitch every few seconds as he empties out. 

As soon as he feels the last wave of it hit, he starts thrusting at them again. He doesn’t want to leave them hanging. He carefully shifts so he’s leaning on one arm instead of holding himself up by his hands. He uses his now free hand to rub at their clit. 

Then there it is. He sees one of their hands suddenly dig deeper into the mattress with a harsh, flinching movement. Their whimpering turns into a little yell. He tilts his head so he can see their face better. Their expression is teetering on the edge of pained. He lets them ride it out, then pulls out of them with as much delicacy as he can muster for such an act. 

“You okay there?”

They give an over-enthusiastic nod. He gives a breathy chuckle in return. Then he gets up and walks over to their garbage can to trash the condom. By the time he turns to walk back to the bed they’ve already covered themselves up with one of the multitudes of spare blankets that sit at the foot of their bed on top of a chest. Their breath is slow. They have a hand on one of their cheeks.

“You know... I’m not paying you any extra for that...?”

He shrugs. Normally the farmer’s little taunts are fine, welcome. Right now he’s starting to come down from those sex endorphins and is feeling particularly disgusting after what he did. Even though he knows that they not only  _ welcomed  _ this little rut but made the first move. It feels like, somehow, he just tricked them into it. And after Marnie warned him not to be a bother.

He moves to replace the box of condoms in their drawer. He could, at the very least, clean up. “Wait!” He flinches, then looks over at them confused. They grimace. It clicks. They hid something in there. They just remembered, probably. 

“Look, whatever you stuffed in there I don’t give a shit.”

“I know you’re saying that, but...”

“What, got your  _ real _ boyfriend’s picture in here?” He could hit himself for being so mean, especially since he knows what he’s saying is stupid. He’s honestly shocked that they don’t slap him.

“Well, I... Hope so.” They sound hurt. They don’t make a move to hurt him back. They’re too nice to him. 

“What do you mean?”

They bite their lip, nervous. Then they reach over and grab the paper they stuffed into the drawer earlier and trade him for the condoms, which they put back into place. It’s, sure enough, a photo. Or at least whatever it is is printed on photo paper. He stares down at the back of it for a few seconds. He doesn’t want to turn it over. He doesn’t want confirmation. He especially doesn’t want to risk getting pissed and yelling at them. He knows they wouldn’t do anything to hurt him like that. He knows he’s being stupid.

He sighs, then turns it over, braced for the worst. Then he laughs. Mostly in relief, but also because of the ridiculousness of the photo. It’s him, of course. The farmer would never  _ fuck _ him then show off someone they’re actually into. He’s just paranoid, self-loathing. But also, importantly, this is one of those cheesy senior photos that his family had printed off. He’s holding a gridball. There’s a bunch of cartoony stars surrounding his graduation year in one corner. The background looks like melted ice cream.

“Where did you even get this?”

“Marnie had extras, and...”

“You asked my aunt for a picture of me?”

“Well... Not quite?”

He looks between the farmer and the photograph. “Did you  _ steal _ this from Marnie?” They cover their face with the blanket.

“I didn’t think anyone would find out!”

“You stole to get the world’s worst picture of me. Do you know how old this picture is? I don’t even fucking look like this anymore.”

“Shut up!”

“I just didn’t know you were so desperate.”

“I should’ve told you it  _ was _ a photo of some boyfriend.”

He sets the photograph down and crawls back up onto the bed next to them. They lay on his shoulder, face still covered. “Yeah, you probably should’ve.” He puts his arm around them. “You’re stuck with me now.” They move the blanket down to their chest and look up at him.

“Yeah?”

“I mean. I’m assuming you wanna date. No bouquet but I never really gave a shit about those weird town traditions anyway.” It’s a half lie. He wants to present the flowers.

“What gave it away? The picture or me saying, ‘I’m interested in you’ or ‘Fuck me’ or-”

“I’m dense, I get it.”

“Do you need it in writing? I think Maru is a notary. I could get her to sign off on it.”

“You’re pushing it.”

They smile and it’s warm enough he can feel it in his stomach. They move a hand over to his chest and trace tiny circles with one finger. “Well, what if I let you sleep in here with me instead of on the couch? Could I get away with teasing you a little more then?”

  
  



End file.
